


borrow

by Tomohisa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dorky Flirting, Drinking, M/M, One Night Stands, Tattoos, or at least the aftermath of both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:37:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomohisa/pseuds/Tomohisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tooru’s eyes shot open. Whoever he was spooning had black hair, but it was definitely <em>not</em> Iwa-chan because <em>how could anyone have hair so messy?</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. borrow

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: ‘good morning we were both wasted and had a one night stand last night so hope you don’t mind me borrowing your shirt since you ripped mine off’ AU
> 
> This isn't at all what I had planned to write tonight, but it turned out so nice that I thought I'd share it anyway. Enjoy!

When Tooru woke up, his head was pounding. He turned over in bed and groaned, throwing an arm across his still-closed eyes.

Flashes of the night before came back at random intervals. He tried to piece together the entire evening. He had dragged Iwa-chan to the flat party of a girl on his course, that was a definite. There had been drinking games. Some sort of card game, maybe? Probably dancing too. He always danced.

There were some images he couldn’t place. A kid with the worst dye job he’d ever seen. Iwa-chan stopping him from walking into a door. The vague memory of a sharp grin on someone’s face. Someone’s hands on his hips, their mouth on his –

Tooru shot up in bed, eyes flying open. He winced and held a hand to his forehead, even though the room was dimmed by curtains over the only window. When the spinning had settled, he breathed out a sigh because, yes, he was in his own room.

He fell back onto his pillows with a satisfying _whumpth_ and glanced at the clock on his night stand. Squinting around his hangover, the numbers confirmed that he had indeed missed all of his morning lectures. Iwa-chan would definitely berate him for it later, but for now Tooru wanted nothing more than to curl back into a ball of warmth.

His covers didn’t seem to want to budge when he tugged on them, but Tooru was too sleep-addled to care. When he couldn’t pull them up over his shoulders, he settled for turning and wrapping his arms around the nearest source of warmth. Tooru hummed happily as he ran his hands over the other person’s chest. They shivered at his now cold hands but didn’t pull away. Tooru smiled into their back, because it really was so nice of Iwa-chan to keep him warm like this –

Tooru’s brain stuttered to a halt.

He could feel his hangover disappearing by the second with each sobering thought his mind questioned. Why would Iwa-chan be here? Iwa-chan would never tolerate him warming his cold hands using his bare skin as a heater. Iwa-chan would _never_ sleep in Tooru’s bed, and he definitely would not be _naked_ and _why was Tooru naked_ –

Tooru’s eyes shot open. Whoever he was spooning had black hair, but it was definitely _not_ Iwa-chan because _how could anyone have hair so messy?_

Despite what his brain was telling him to do, Tooru’s hands inadvertently tightened around the stranger, who murmured appreciatively. An unfamiliar – but not at all unpleasant – musky scent made his nose twitch as the dark-haired stranger shifted to scratch at his hair. Tooru tracked the movement of his hand with wide eyes, closing his eyes for a brief second when it stroked his hand.

“Morning.” A voice not quite so deep as he had been expecting followed the touch on his skin. Gently – almost _unwillingly_ , Tooru’s brain helpfully supplied – the stranger peeled both of his hands away before sitting up to groan with a cat-like stretch.

Tooru rolled onto his back again and… admired the view. It was OK, he told himself. It was perfectly normal to stare at someone if you woke up in bed, _naked_ , next to them. It was also perfectly acceptable to try to memorise the muscled planes of his chest and stomach. Tooru raised an eyebrow, because although he didn’t have arms nearly half as impressive as Iwa-chan’s, Mr Tall, Dark and Stranger definitely had a _lot_ doing on for himself. He might have even been taller than Tooru was – it was hard to tell from where he was lying.

When he finished yawning, Tooru’s stranger glanced down at him before leering appreciatively. Tooru made sure to flex each and every one of his arm muscles as he stretched them up to rest his hands behind his head. Two could play at this game, and volleyball had made him quite the competitor. The stranger smiled knowingly.

“As much as I’d _love_ to stay and admire the view,” he gave Tooru a heavy-lidded gaze that he took to mean, _and I really, really mean that_ , “I have class –” he glanced at Tooru’s clock, “– fifteen minutes ago.”

He stood up from Tooru’s bed, pushing back the covers like he was immune to the chilling cold in the rest of the room. Tooru didn’t even pretend he wasn’t staring as the stranger bent over to sort through the mess of clothes on the floor. He was definitely going to think back on this moment later.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I borrow a shirt?” He held up the shredded remains of what was presumably a piece of clothing. “You kind of ripped through mine in your eagerness to reach all _this_.” He gestured over himself, grinning wickedly.

Tooru flushed before scoffing, “There is no way that I was _that_ desperate.” _You were, you_ so _were_ , the betraying part of his brain whispered, but Tooru stifled the thought before it could take root.

The dark-haired stranger shrugged, not at all put off. He started pulled on his underwear before yanking on a pair of the _tightest_ jeans Tooru had ever seen. (Not that he disapproved.) “Well, whatever ripped my shirt open to attack my chest did so with an incredible show of strength – I mean, there aren’t even any seams _left_.” The stranger held the material up for inspection. He was exaggerating, of course, but not by much. A heat began to rise up the back of Tooru’s neck as he took in just how ruined the shirt was. He sighed.

“Take whatever you want from the wardrobe.” He frowned as he sat up, considering. “It might not fit though. You’re very… lanky.”

“I’m afraid you are too, sweetheart.” The stranger was already rifling his way through Tooru’s clothes when he spoke. “You’re just living in denial.” He pulled out a few shirts and eyed them critically, before settling on an old, black t-shirt that Tooru had owned since he started university. It was a little tight on him now, but Tooru was fond of the cartoonish alien motif on the front of it. On Tooru’s dark-haired stranger, it looked positively _indecent_.

Tooru covered up his sudden wave of lust with a reprimanding, “I did tell you.” He sensibly tried – and failed – to keep his eyes focused only on the stranger’s face.

The dark-haired stranger glanced down at himself, stomach muscles tensing visibly through the thin material of his borrowed t-shirt. “It’s ok – I’m used to things being a little… _tight_.” He maintained eye contact with Tooru as he spoke, and he had to fight back a shudder.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Funnily enough, I get told that a lot.” He grinned before slipping on his socks and shoes, lazily throwing the remains of his shirt at Tooru. “A souvenir,” he supplied, his smile turning devious.

The stranger paused with his hand outstretched toward Tooru’s door handle. “Oh yeah.” He turned back to face Tooru, who was still sitting dazedly in his bed. “My name is Tetsurou Kuroo.”

Tooru opened his mouth to lie and say that _he knew that_ but the stranger – Kuroo – cut him off neatly. He was almost chuckling as he spoke. “It’s OK, I know you don’t remember – Kenma likes to call me ‘Kuro’,” he pointed up at the dark mess on his head, “Just think of the hair, and you’ll remember.”

Blinking owlishly, Tooru suddenly felt like he should probably say something in return. “I’m –“

“Tooru Oikawa,” Kuroo supplied. “Oh, I know.” He grinned in a way that somehow managed to show off most of his teeth. “I left my number in your phone last night. Hopefully I’ll be hearing more from you, _Oikawa_.” He practically purred Tooru’s name before leaving the room, not quite slamming the main door on his way out.

Tooru collapsed back onto his bed again, and this time the duvet moved easily to cover him. It didn’t feel quite so warm as before. He sighed deep in his chest, because he really did hope that he’d see more of Kuroo.

After all, he'd borrowed his favourite shirt.


	2. apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dark-haired boy reached a hand up to scratch the back of his head nonchalantly, but Tooru noticed how his eyes widened. “You mean... we aren’t in your room?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘last night was a haze for both of us and somehow we woke up hungover in a bed that isn’t either of ours and also neither of us recognise this apartment we should probably get out of here before someone calls the cops on us’ AU
> 
> I didn't plan on writing a second part, but I'm pretty fond of this AU. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

Tooru did end up meeting Kuroo again, but not in the way he had expected.

He had toyed with the idea of calling his tall, more than acceptable – fucking _amazing_ , actually – dark-haired one-night stand, but it just felt odd. Tooru couldn’t remember the last time _he_ had been the one making the call. Did Kuroo even have his number? From the devilish look on his face when he’d left, probably. That, more than anything else, was what stopped Tooru’s hovering finger from pressing down on the call button.

No matter how much he wanted to.

It also helped that Kuroo had put his name in as ‘Best You’ve Ever Had ;) ’. His confidence had sent a shiver of delight up Tooru’s spine, but usually _Tooru_ was the confident one. If Kuroo was really interested, _he_ ’d be the one phoning _Tooru_.

“Why don’t you just call him?” When he looked up, Iwa-chan hadn’t even glanced up from his laptop. Tooru blushed. Iwa-chan had already caught him staring at his phone more than once. He continued typing out an essay furiously as he spoke. “I don’t get why you play these games with everyone you like. Just _call him_ already.”

Tooru continued to hold his phone tightly as he moved from his single armchair to flop down onto the couch next to Iwa-chan. He leaned into the other boy’s shoulder, sighing dramatically. Iwa-chan grunted but allowed the close proximity, shifting almost imperceptibly so that the bony part of his arm wasn’t digging into the back of Tooru’s neck.

“I _can’t_ , Iwa-chan.” Tooru unlocked his phone once again to stare at Kuroo’s contact details. “You don’t _understand_.”

Iwa-chan let out a soft chuckle, pressing keys rapidly for a few seconds longer. Then he shut his laptop and set it aside. Tooru’s head fell into his lap as soon as it was free of technology. He gave Iwa-chan a despondent stare, which the other boy frowned at.

“You’re right, I don’t understand.” He flicked Tooru’s forehead, ignoring the other boy’s pained yelp. “If I was as smitten as _you_ clearly are –“ (Tooru’s protests were, again, ignored) “– I would call the guy straight away, not wait for him to get back to me.” He pushed aside Tooru’s hand from his forehead along with his brown locks. “There’s nothing wrong with showing some initiative when he’s obviously interested in you.”

Iwa-chan’s familiar touch stroking back his hair was comforting, if only for a moment. “See, Iwa-chan, this is why you still don’t have anybody – you don’t know how these things work –“ The other boy pinched his nose to shut him up.

The dark-haired boy tried to wiggle Tooru’s face back and forth by his nose whilst the other boy batted at him piteously. “I think you’ll find that some of us have been busy, say, finishing their degree?”

Tooru let out a scandalised gasp as Iwa-chan finally released him. “Low blow, Iwa-chan!”

The dark-haired boy just grinned. His face sobered as he seemed to remember something. “Besides, didn’t you tell me that he borrowed your favourite alien shirt?”

His hands flew to his face as Tooru let out a long groan. He’d forgotten about that. “I’m never going to get it back!”

Tooru could almost feel how difficult it was for Iwa-chan to restrain himself from sighing. He was pretty sure that the soft smacking sound he heard was the other boy facepalming silently before he spoke. “Earth calling Oikawa, reminding him that there is, in fact, a simple solution to all of this.”

“No Iwa-chan – I have to stay strong.” He pulled his hands back to see the dark-haired boy staring down at him with an exasperated look on his face.

“Right. Well, if you’re not going to call loverboy, are you at least coming out tonight?” He gestured at his laptop. “I don’t plan on doing any more work, and that loud guy from my course is having another flat party. You in?”

* * *

Tooru woke with a groan and a hangover that he really should have been familiar with by now. They were well acquainted, even if they did always meet at the most awkward times. 

Like now.

He flipped over in bed, then groaned even louder. “Why do we always end up meeting like this?” A quick lifting of the covers confirmed that, yes, he and Kuroo were both naked once again.

“I don’t know.” Kuroo sat up, wavering slightly. His eyes were bloodshot. Compared to the last time, he didn’t seem quite so composed. Even his naturally messy bedhead was in a much worse state. Despite that, he still managed a wry smile. “Are you disappointed by this turn of events?”

Tooru joined him in sitting up, wincing as the movement made his head spin. “Not entirely.” He pulled up one of his knees – the dodgy one – and was pleased to find that it didn’t protest too badly. “I’ve had worse nights.”

Kuroo’s smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Me too.”

The dark-haired boy leaned over into Tooru’s space, and only his amazing poker face stopped him from appearing startled. Kuroo softly placed a hand just below his kneecap before he leaned in and kissed it softly. Tooru made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, wondering whether he had drunkenly shared information about his old volleyball injury, or if Kuroo had picked up on it on his own.

Kuroo leaned back again, and Tooru was about to breath out _something_ – maybe it was a reply, or a quiet _thank you_ , or maybe he was just going to ask how his alien shirt was getting on – but then something unfamiliar about the covers caught his attention. Whatever he had been going to say disappeared with the reminder of how much he disliked that particular shade of apple green.

“Are we in your room this time?” He tried to make the enquiry casual, like it didn’t at all bother Tooru that he didn’t know where he was.

Kuroo blinked several times as though startling out of a reverie, and then his head whipped back and forth as he glanced around the room. Tooru winced with sympathy for how his hungover brain must be feeling with the abuse.

The dark-haired boy reached a hand up to scratch the back of his head nonchalantly, but Tooru noticed how his eyes widened. “You mean... we aren’t in your room?”

A crease appeared between Tooru’s eyebrows. “Don’t be stupid – did you think that I had just changed the entire layout of the furniture, and bought a new wardrobe, _and_ bought these _godawful_ covers –“ He choked on his words as his tired brain caught up. “Wait – whose apartment are we in then?”

Kuroo’s bloodshot eyes gave the room a quick once-over again. His voice came out as a vaguely concerned ramble. “I’m not sure… It’s not Bokuto’s, and it’s definitely not Kenma’s – you’re completely right about the bed sheets by the way, and he has _much_ better taste – and even if it was, I would still suggest the same: getting the hell out of here before whoever owns it gets back?”

“Agreed.”

The jumped out from opposite sides of the bed in synchronised movements – even both stumbling as they stood up. Tooru couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed when Kuroo all too noticeably gave his body a once over. This was their second meeting after all.

Sex, Tooru’s brain felt the need to clarify for him. This was the second time they’d had _sex_.

He had leaned over to collect the clothing from his side of the bed when Kuroo spoke. “You never called.” It was too flat to be a question, but Tooru knew that the dark-haired boy was asking.

“I didn’t,” Tooru confirmed, glancing up.

“And yet, here we are again.” Kuroo ran a hand though his hair, flexing his muscles in a way that should not have been attractive with how weary his face looked. Tooru felt heat begin to pool in his stomach, but furiously ignored it.

“Here we are.” He agreed, humming happily as he finally managed to find his underwear and pull it on. If he nearly caught his foot and fell over, _well_ , he’d have liked to have seen someone else do better when their vision still kept swimming in and out of focus at random movements.

When he looked up again, Kuroo was staring down at him with a quiet expression on his face. His voice came out hurt. “I was waiting for you to call.”

Tooru’s previous confidence fell away in shattered pieces. He hadn’t expected for him to come right out and say it. “Oh. Well, I was waiting to be called.”

They both stared at each other long enough for Tooru’s neck to start prickling uncomfortably with the attention. Then, the dark-haired boy did something completely unexpected, and burst out laughing.

It wasn’t the type of laugh that Tooru would have put together with Kuroo’s face. It was awkward and braying, more like a donkey than anything else that Tooru’s alcohol-impeded brain could come up with. And yet, it was almost charming.

Tooru had to fight back a smile, because Kuroo’s laugh was also very contagious. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just that,” he wiped a hand across his face, voice still full of mirth, “You _would_.” Tooru felt like he should be offended, but the grin on Kuroo’s stupid face stopped him. “I completely forgot who I was dealing with here.”

Kuroo’s grin widened, and he rested a hand on his hip, gesturing expressively with the other. He seemed completely unconcerned by the fact that he was still naked. “How’s about this – I’ll call you in a few days, and, that way, your ego will remain _intact_.”

Tooru spluttered over his words. “My _ego_?” He wanted to deny it, but that was exactly what he wanted – for Kuroo to call _him_. He flushed, then remembered the predicament he was currently in.

“Somehow, this doesn’t feel like the right sort of time _or_ place for a heart to heart.” Tooru glanced around the room again pointedly. He looked up and down the dark-haired boy's toned body as he raised an eyebrow.

The grin slid straight off Kuroo’s face. “Shit. Yeah, you’re right.” He started frantically digging around in the scattered clothes again.

Tooru smiled, but it was all perfect, pearly-white teeth. “I’m always right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have at least one more part in mind, but I'm not sure when/if I'll write it.


	3. don't ask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo raised his head, shifting so that he was leaning on one of his arms instead. He seemed to steel himself before continuing. “I know whose room we were in last night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No prompt for this chapter! It's more like an intermission between the last one and the next. Enjoy!

Early morning coffee sounded good to Tooru. _Especially_ when Kuroo was the one suggesting it.

Actually, it wasn’t _that_ early. There were enough people lining the pavements that their bedraggled states attracted more than a few curious looks as they walked side by side to the nearest café.

Despite how unflattering their previous night had been to their appearances, Kuroo was still absolutely _stunning_ in the daylight. Even if his bed-head was spectacularly awful. (Tooru was sure that his own hair would look nearly as bad at this point.)

Tooru hadn’t been able to find his shirt – and was almost entirely convinced that Kuroo had deliberately destroyed it last night as a petty revenge for the loss of his previous one. Then again, Tooru couldn’t hold it entirely against the other boy, because he’d given Tooru his own shirt to make up for it. Unfortunately, it was also missing a few buttons.

When he’d turned to Kuroo to point his out, the dark-haired boy had given him a shit-eating grin and told him not to worry, that he _didn’t_ expect _Tooru_ to pay for all of the buttons he’d ripped off. Tooru’s blatant interest in seeing him naked had been payment enough, _apparently_. All spoken in the most innocent-sounding tone possible, of course.

Tooru _despised_ it. But damn if he didn’t get a twisted sense of delight from the teasing.

He glanced over at Kuroo again, frowning at his jacket. “Are you sure you’re warm enough like that? You’ve literally only got a coat on.” Tooru himself was already feeling the bite of the early morning chill. But it did help him feel slightly more alert. Or, as alert as he could feel after such a late, alcohol-filled night.

Kuroo grinned at him, and his voice – surprisingly – held not a single note of teasing. “I’m fine, but thanks for your concern.” Tooru wondered if he’d ever be able to speak as sincerely, and so _casually_ too.

Tooru thanked Kuroo as he held the door open, and settled into the nearest empty table as the other boy went to fetch them drinks. He rested his forehead on the edge of the table, and his headache returned full-force. At this point, Tooru didn’t care what Kuroo brought back, as long as it was warm, caffeinated and didn’t contain any alcohol.

The smell of coffee drifted towards him, and Tooru looked up just as Kuroo sat a steaming paper cup down on the table. It was just a simple black coffee, but the dark-haired boy had brought milk and sugar packets as well. Tooru gave him a ten out of ten for effort.

“Thanks,” he murmured again, before ripping into the sachets of sugar. Normally he would have gone with the milk as well, but his stomach was feeling decidedly questionable at this point in time. Tooru decided not to risk it.

Kuroo’s eyes – sharp, despite how tired he looked – followed Tooru’s preparation of his coffee, but he didn’t comment. Just as Tooru was about to point out how rude it was to stare, Kuroo’s phone started ringing, and Tooru’s face lit up with a wry smile as he recognised the song as the opening of a children’s TV show. The dark-haired boy appeared only mildly embarrassed.

“Bokuto,” he shrugged, as though that was enough explanation. And, as Tooru was about to learn, it probably was.

Kuroo answered his phone with a smooth hello that only degenerated from there. “Yeah, I’m up _now_ – obviously – why?” The other person spoke at length for a while – so loudly that even Tooru could almost hear them – and Kuroo’s face became progressively paler and paler. Tooru would have laughed if it hadn’t looked so striking against his black hair. And not in a very flattering way either. “What? From Nohebi?”

Turning to the side, Kuroo whispered furiously into his phone as Tooru looked on, curious. “Bokuto, you absolute _dick_.” Wild hoots of laughter could be heard from the other end of the line. “I’m never helping you with anything ever again.” The laughter increased in both volume and intensity, and Kuroo narrowed his eyes before hanging up the phone.

Groaning, the dark-haired boy settled his head on the table between his elbows, gripping at his black hair almost hard enough to yank it out.

Tooru sipped at his coffee, shivering as warmth spread through his stomach. The heat was so welcome that it almost made him forget his hangover for a few seconds. “Bokuto?” He couldn’t quite suppress the curiosity that tinged his voice.

“Yeah.” Kuroo raised his head, shifting so that he was leaning on one of his arms instead. He seemed to steel himself before continuing. “I know whose room we were in last night.”

Tooru was almost sure that his mind would flash back to when their bodies had been intertwined in bed, but the memory of those garishly green sheets was much more prominent. “You do?” At least it allowed him to speak calmly. Tooru wasn’t sure if he should be thankful or not.

Kuroo met his gaze. “It was some guy from the volleyball club that I had an argument with a few weeks ago.” He shifted in his seat. “I don’t like him, and I must have been ranting about him to Bokuto last night, because he had the hilarious idea of getting me to have sex in his bed as revenge.”

Tooru’s face must have scrunched up as he opened his mouth to reply, because Kuroo waved his free hand pleadingly. “Please don’t ask. I have no idea how he managed to set it up.” He straightened in his chair again, sighing. He still hadn’t touched his coffee. “And if he got Akaashi or Kenma involved, well, we never stood a chance. I’d like to think neither of them would be that stupid though.”

“Well,” Tooru began, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I hope that next time I at least get to see your room instead of a complete stranger’s. Their sheets were such a _tacky_ colour.”

Kuroo seemed to perk up at his words. He leered at Tooru knowingly. “Next time?”

Tooru froze mid-sip. _Shit._ He hadn’t meant for it to come out sounding like that. He swallowed before he tried to stutter out an explanation. “I meant –“

“That you’ll be waiting for my call,” Kuroo interrupted smoothly. He smiled and drank a mouthful of his coffee, daring Tooru to respond with his eyes.

Mouth thinning out into a line, Tooru realised that he didn’t have anything to say back to that. He really was losing his edge. “I have to go.” He stood up, pushing his chair away from the table in the same motion.

Kuroo only grinned at him and handed him his coffee. His hand somehow managed to deliberately brush over the back of Tooru’s as the cup was passed over.

Completely and utterly _refusing_ to blush, Tooru only stumbled slightly as he brushed by Kuroo. Just as he ended up behind the dark-haired boy, Tooru suddenly remembered something else that had caught his attention.

“Wait, you play volleyball?” He backed up a few steps so that he could meet Kuroo’s eyes.

The other boy grinned. “Middle blocker.”

“Setter,” Tooru said, by way of reply. “Former, actually.” He glanced down at Kuroo’s jacket, trying in vain to see through it to the muscles underneath. He settled for admiring the patterning of bruises he’d left on the other boy’s neck instead. “Well, that explains a lot,” he murmured.

He pinned Kuroo with a hungry gaze as he continued to walk away, taking no small amount of pleasure from the blush that appeared on the dark-haired boy’s face before he looked away.

“See you later, Tooru,” Kuroo called out to him over his shoulder.

“It’s _Oikawa_.”

“Right, right…”

* * *

Iwa-chan didn’t seem at all surprised when Tooru stumbled through the front door of their shared flat, half-dressed and looking a little more than worse for wear. The dark-haired boy wasn’t fully dressed either, but had obviously had a more restful night of sleep than Tooru, if his pyjamas were anything to go by.

“Do I even want to know?” Iwa-chan raised one of his eyebrows as he took a sip from his coffee.

“Don’t ask.” Tooru pulled off his shoes, and finally noticed that he wasn’t wearing any socks. Being away from the distraction that was _Kuroo_ also reminded him of how much he really, _really_ needed to shower. “ _Definitely_ don’t ask,” he sighed as he tossed his footwear to one side of the door.

Iwa-chan grunted, nonplussed, and returned to reading whatever paper he had in front of him. How he could get up after a night out and immediately start doing work for his essays, Tooru had no idea. Student life suited him.

Collapsing face-first into the couch, Tooru groaned.

“Boy troubles again?” Iwa-chan commented mildly from the kitchen table. Tooru heard the distinctive swooshing noise of a page being turned over.

“You could call it that,” Tooru mumbled into the couch cushion. He twisted over so that he was lying on his back and could rant whilst facing the ceiling. “He plays volleyball, Iwa-chan – _volleyball_.”

“Oh.”

“ _I know!_ ” Tooru threw his hand over his face. He wondered if he’d ever be able to shake his thoughts free of Kuroo before he finally called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of using this fic as a way to give myself writing practice. In some ways it's more like a series of linked one-shots in the same AU than an actual fic. I sit and do each chapter in one sitting, and just write until I feel the chapter come to an end, with minimal editing.
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter will have a prompt and then the final one will be an epilogue of sorts with Kuroo's POV for the entire fic. (I'm not sure right now how I'm going to end the next chapter, so plans might change slightly.)


	4. tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooru closed his eyes and willed the entire scenario to just be a dream. “ _Please_ tell me it doesn’t say what I think it says.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘last night was supposed to be a one-night stand but we drunkenly got each other’s names tattooed on each other’s ass cheeks so now it’s kind of hard to forget you’ AU
> 
> This prompt was too hilarious - I _had_ to write it. I've barely checked this chapter over, so feel free to point out any errors in the text!
> 
> Enjoy!

“Uh, Oikawa,” one of Tooru’s classmates snickered, “What’s that on your ass?”

“You shouldn’t look at things you can’t afford,” Tooru sing-songed at them, before stepping into his underwear. Too many years of volleyball had made Tooru immune to public modesty. The fact that he’d just been doing a light gym workout and _not_ setting a ball all over a court didn’t make the slightest bit of difference.

The same boy started to say something about Tooru’s ‘being for sale then’, but another one of Tooru’s friends cut him off.

“No, Tooru, seriously – you have something on your ass.” He looked like he was barely biting back laughter.

Tooru frowned. “What are you talking about?” He pulled his shirt over his head and started to dig around in his locker. The mirrors above the sinks in the nearest bathroom were too high for Tooru to look lower than his waist with, but he was always prepared. He had a hand-mirror in his locker. _Somewhere._

Eventually finding it, Tooru brushed his hair back from his face as he flipped open the mirror. It was a little awkward, but Tooru managed to angle it behind himself whilst pulling his underwear away from his skin. When he saw what they were talking about, he found himself caught between dropping it in shock or crushing it in his hand.

The first classmate winced and turned away from Tooru, pulling on his clothes hastily. The three of them worked out together regularly, and Tooru was well-known for always being in an amicable mood. It was possible they’d never even seen him annoyed before. (How little they knew.) And now, well, he was _furious_.

His other friend was a little braver. “Uh, Tooru…” His voice held not a single drip of its previous humour. “Is everything all right?”

Tooru flipped the mirror shut again with more force than was necessary, slamming his locker shut as well. He slipped into his remaining clothes, and was pulling on his shoes before he felt calm enough to reply.

“If I end up committing first-degree murder, where would be the best place to hide the body?”

He looked up, and the other boy pulled back from the expression on his face.

* * *

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru kicked open to door of their flat, even though there was a chance that the other boy wouldn’t even be in at this time of the day. “We have an emergency!” 

“You say that _at least_ once a week and it’s never yet been an emergency!” Iwa-chan called back at him from his bedroom.

Tooru threw his bags down in front of the door to his own room before proceeding to stop over to Iwa-chan’s. He pushed open the door – being careful not to slam it against the wall, because Iwa-chan was very particular about Tooru _not_ destroying his wall like that – and stared at the dark-haired boy with wide eyes.

“I have made a rather startling discovery,” he grit out from between clenched teeth.

Iwa-chan was sat at his desk, but he closed his textbook and pushed it aside at the odd edge to Tooru’s voice. A small dip between his eyebrows appeared as Tooru started fumbling with the button of his jeans, but he didn’t do much more than raise an eyebrow when Tooru started pushing them down as well. It wasn’t like it was anything he hadn’t seen before.

“Look!” Tooru turned to one side to give Iwa-chan the clearest view possible, pushing aside part of his underwear.

The dark-haired boy squinted as he leaned forwards in his chair to get a closer look. “I don’t –“

Tooru sighed and flicked on the nearest light switch with his free hand.

Iwa-chan’s eyes widened, and he slapped a hand over his mouth – but not before Tooru saw the smile the was threatening to take over his entire face. “Oh my god.” His words came out muffled and almost gleeful.

Tooru closed his eyes and willed the entire scenario to just be a dream. “ _Please_ tell me it doesn’t say what I think it says.”

“I’m sorry to inform you that you do indeed have ‘Kuroo’ tattooed on your right ass cheek.” Iwa-chan didn’t sound _at all_ sorry.

Groaning, Tooru pulled up his underwear and slammed his head against the door frame.

* * *

The outgoing call lasted for barely two rings before Kuroo picked up. “Oikawa! I’m shocked that you actually –“ 

Tooru cut him off. “Where is your friend?”

There was a confused pause at the other end of the line. “Um, sorry – what?”

“Your stupid friend.” Tooru’s tone was sharp, like a knife’s edge. “The one that managed to get us drunk enough to have sex in someone else’s bed.” Iwa-chan looked up curiously at those words. Tooru hadn’t told him _everything_ that had happened that night. He could barely remember it himself.

Tooru glanced at him across the table – they’d moved to the kitchen once Iwa-chan had been able to calm him down enough – and Iwa-chan held up his arms defensively. _I won’t ask._

Kuroo’s voice was oddly formal when he next spoke. “May I ask what you will do with this information?”

“I’m going to find him, and then I’m going to _kill_ him for being the catalysing factor for my _beautiful_ skin being _marred_ by permanent ink.” Tooru let the harsh words tumble out before he could begin to regret them. “And then I’m going to kill _you_ , for allowing me to get _your fucking name_ tattooed on my ass!”

“Wait, what?” Kuroo’s words were full of surprised delight. “You have my name on your –“

“ _Yes._ ”

Kuroo snorted into the phone. “That is– actually, hang on a second.”

Despite his rising anger, Tooru waited patiently as there was a shuffling noise at the end of the line. Kuroo’s next words were more of a whisper. “Oh my god.”

Tooru held a hand over his eyes and bit back a groan. “You –“

“I guess we’re a matching pair then, huh?” Kuroo didn’t sound nearly so bothered by it as Tooru was. “I’d rather you didn’t kill Bokuto though – he throws some of the best parties,” he added on casually.

“What I don’t understand is,” Iwa-chan interrupted them, “How one of the best – former – setters in the prefecture, _known_ for being disturbingly clairvoyant on the court, didn’t notice that he had a tattoo on his ass for nearly _two days_.”

When Tooru finally lowered his hand, Iwa-chan gestured towards his phone. “I’m presuming he has one too?” Tooru nodded, and the dark-haired boy rolled his eyes. “Seriously, how could you not notice _that_?”

“Contrary to popular opinion,” Tooru began flatly, “I do not spent hours at a time inspecting every inch of my body in the mirror each day.”

Kuroo’s laugh started to ring in one of his ears, and Tooru flushed as he realised that the other boy had heard him say that too. He lowered his phone and covered it with one hand. “Besides, I was _distracted_ by the _worst_ hangover of my life clouding my vision and… _muscles_.”

Iwa-chan waved a hand, his exasperated face letting Tooru know that he didn’t want to hear any more. The other boy was already lost in thought though. Tooru hadn’t seen Kuroo’s rear end for more than a split second whilst he was picking up his clothes, so he could be excused for not having made out the dark-haired boy’s tattoo in the dimly-lit room. Kuroo, on the other hand…

Furious, Tooru held up the phone to his ear again. “ _You saw._ ”

“I don’t –“

“Don’t lie to me, Kuro-chan.” He let his words venomously drip out like sickly sweet honey. “Hungover as I was, I _definitely_ noticed you checking me out when we first got out of bed. You. Saw.”

Kuroo seemed to weigh up his options. “I did,” he sighed into the phone. “But I didn’t know what it was!” he tacked on anxiously.

Tooru breathed deeply through his nose. “Right, well –“

“Go out with me!” Kuroo blurted out.

Whatever words Tooru had been about to say dissolved into an incoherent, “What?” His heartbeat began to pick up.

“Go on a date with me.” The other boy’s voice was as nervous as Tooru had ever heard it. “Please?”

“I, uh –“ Tooru couldn’t make his brain work. He pointedly ignored the curious expression Iwa-chan was giving him. Of course, Tooru had been daydreaming about hearing those words from Kuroo for several days now, but he wasn’t feeling particularly amicable towards him at this very moment in time.

“Tooru.” His mouth snapped shut as Kuroo used his first name. “Let me take you on a date. I’ll even pay to get the tattoo removed.”

Tooru glanced up at Iwa-chan. There was no way that the other boy could hear what was going on at the other end of the line, but he seemed to have some sort of an idea. He raised an eyebrow at Tooru, tilted his head in an encouraging way that said, _go on_.

“I– yes.” Tooru winced at his stuttering voice, and schooled it into something more fluid. “Yes, I’d like that. A lot.”

Kuroo was oddly quiet for a few seconds, and Tooru wondered if he was silently celebrating. He spoke up quickly just in case.

“But the tattoo thing,” he began tentatively. “It can wait. I mean, we can see how things go.”

Kuroo’s breath hitched at the other end of the line, and when he looked at Iwa-chan, he was mouthing ‘sap’ at him. Tooru gave him the finger, and he other boy chuckled.

“O-OK.” Tooru could feel Kuroo’s excitement through the phone. “When are you free?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter will be more of an epilogue of sorts - Kuroo's POV, covering what happened at the two parties and maybe a little from in between.


	5. epilogue: previously

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who is that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I had to write the last part of this chapter twice because I closed the tab accidentally and lost everything, argh. I remembered most of it though, so hopefully the end result is the same.~~
> 
> Thank you so much for the 100+ kudos on this fic! That was kind of unexpected but more than welcome! This fic was mostly writing practice for me, to see what I could write with minimal editing and a few good prompts. It's nice to know that people enjoyed the results!
> 
> Anyway, here is the last chapter - Kuroo's POV, as promised.

Tetsurou felt his eyes widen as he lowered the drink from his mouth. He reached out to grip Bokuto none too gently by the shoulder, yanking him close enough so that he could be heard over the rush of music.

“Who is that?” Tetsurou knew he sounded breathless, but hopefully Bokuto wouldn’t notice. He wasn’t exactly known for being observant. (That was Kenma, or maybe even Akaashi.)

Bokuto pulled back so that he could stare into Tetsurou’s eyes, one eyebrow raised. “You’re kidding?” Kuroo could just make out how incredulous he sounded. “That’s Tooru Oikawa – you know, that guy all the girls are always talking about?”

Kuroo turned back to Oikawa. The brown-haired boy had an arm thrown around his friend – the one from Bokuto’s course – spilling his drink everywhere as said friend tried to pull away with a disgruntled look on his face. He tried pushing Oikawa back by his face, and was only partially successful. The attempt made Oikawa laugh, and the smiling movement of his mouth lit up his entire face. Something tugged in Tetsurou’s chest.

Yeah, he could see why girls might be interested in Oikawa.

“Oho, you’ve got it _bad_.” Tetsurou heard the knowing grin on Bokuto’s face before he saw it. The other boy was side-eyeing him, arms crossed confidently over his broad chest. His owlish eyes were slightly bloodshot with all the alcohol he’d consumed, but no less sharp.

Tetsurou flushed and snapped his mouth shut. He hadn’t even realised he’d been gaping at Oikawa. He frowned.

“I’m going to find Kenma,” he muttered, just loud enough for his friend to hear as he brushed by Bokuto. The excuse sounded pathetic, even for him.

Bokuto laughed, the booming noise loud enough to be heard even over the music. “Right. He’ll know what to do.”

The back of Tetsurou’s neck started to prickle with embarrassment. He turned back to the other boy with flushed cheeks. “Hey, not another word or I’ll tell Akaashi about all those Valentine’s Day cards you never sent him. _All_ of them.” He made sure to speak out each word clearly, and was rewarded with Bokuto taking on a bug-eyed appearance.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” Tetsurou made to push through the crowded room again, but he still heard Bokuto shout profanities at him over his shoulder. He ignored how a few nearby people turned to stare in favour of moving through the spaces between them.

* * *

Kenma was surprisingly difficult to track down. Tetsurou knew that he would be in a quieter area of the apartment, probably upstairs or maybe even in one of the bathrooms. But he still decided to check all the downstairs rooms first.

Of course, this took him a lot longer than he had first expected. Between manoeuvring round everyone – how did one person even _know_ this many people? – and being stopped by students who recognised him from their shared classes, it was nearly half an hour later before he made it to the foot of the stairs. A few people even offered him drinks. So by the time he was ready to check the upper rooms, there was already a comfortable buzzing in his stomach.

Tetsurou took the first step tentatively, legs wobbling but not enough to unbalance him. Apparently, not everyone was as fortunate, because the only warning he got was a startled cry as something warm and very heavy crashed into him.

Tetsurou groaned, not even trying to sit up. His head was spinning, and not just from the alcohol. He glanced down at the person who’d fallen down the stairs. “Hey, are you all right?”

He was rewarded by what probably shouldn’t be a familiar face gazing back up at him. Oikawa pulled himself back, running a hand through the hair at the back of his head. Tetsurou mirrored him and pushed himself up from the floor. The result was that Oikawa ended up draped across his waist, knees on either side of him.

Tetsurou grinned, falling back into the suave personality that always hit him whenever he was nervous. “Well, _hello_ there.” It always seemed to work on people he was interested in, even if Kenma said it made him sound like an idiot.

Oikawa’s brow furrowed. He blinked slowly. “You’re not Iwa-chan,” he said, stupidly.

Tetsurou’s smile faltered. He wasn’t sure how to take that. “No… I’m not?”

“Oh.” Oikawa sat back on his haunches even more. The resettling of his weight caused a grunt to escape from Tetsurou, whose breath hitched as Oikawa brushed a little to close to _other_ parts of Tetsurou. The brown haired boy didn’t seem at all fazed by their compromising position, and wobbled slightly as he sat with a considering look on his face. He didn’t even seem to notice how Tetsurou shifted underneath him, trying to make sure that they didn’t align _too_ perfectly.

Just as Tetsurou was beginning to wonder what to do, two voices interrupted at the same time.

“Kuro –“

“Oikawa – “

Kenma appeared at the top of the stairs in the same moment that Oikawa’s grumpy friend from earlier stomped over.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sounded delighted, and reached out to the dark haired boy like a child to his mother. ‘Iwa-chan’ yanked him up without the slightest bit of preamble.

“You idiot! Watch what you’re doing!” He smacked Oikawa on the back of the head, ignoring how his friend simpered and clutched at his shirt. But he did roll his eyes when Oikawa started rambling about how much he’d missed him.

Kenma had made his way down the stairs whilst Tetsurou was distracted, and helped him stand as well. His smaller friend stood close enough that Tetsurou was able to hear him mutter, “I don’t even want to know,” under his breath.

Tetsurou grinned, stopping only when Oikawa’s friend cut across his train of thought.

“Iwaizumi.” Tetsurou shook the hand he offered. “Sorry about this idiot. He’s terribly at handling his drink.”

“Kuroo. This is Kenma.”

All three of them turned to look at Oikawa, who was staring at Kenma with an odd sort of intensity. Tetsurou felt Kenma shift uncomfortably under the attention.

“Um –“

“Pudding!” Oikawa suddenly broke out into furious giggles, ignoring Iwaizumi’s flustered attempts to shut him up. Kenma simply stared at Oikawa passively. It probably wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before.

Oikawa’s laughter didn’t stop. It was so contagious that Tetsurou started to chuckle uncontrollably as well. When Kenma gave him a death glare, that just made things worse.

Oikawa shifted his gaze to Tetsurou, and the dark haired boy’s laughter died in his throat. Oikawa looked… curious. Tetsurou’s stomach muscles tightened uncontrollably in response.

“Come on,” Iwaizumi began pulling Oikawa away. “It’s rude to stare.” He just barely stopped Oikawa from walking into the nearest door.

Tetsurou watched them leave, only turning back to Kenma when he couldn’t see Oikawa’s flouncy, brown locks any more. The smaller boy gave him a piercing stare.

“Really?” _That one?_

Tetsurou grinned apologetically. “Sorry.”

Kenma sighed.

* * *

They bumped into each other again, of course. Or rather, Oikawa bumped into Tetsurou. Again.

Tetsurou was cutting across the dance floor – the centre of one room that was filled with shifting bodies – when the other boy snaked a hand around his waist.

“Well, _hello_ there.”

Embarrassingly, the echoed words sent a pleasant shiver straight up Tetsurou’s spine. Or maybe it was because of how Oikawa’s mouth tickled his neck, or the way his hand toyed with the edge of his jeans. Whatever it was, Tetsurou was lost.

He took a shuddering breath, and pretended he wasn’t.

Tetsurou turned to Oikawa with a confident smirk. “Did you need something?” The words came out slightly slurred, but he could live with that.

Oikawa grinned at the response, and yanked Tetsurou closer by the loops of his jeans. The dark haired boy grunted with a lot more than surprise as he suddenly found himself chest-to-chest with the other boy. Automatically, both of his hands settled on Oikawa’s hips. One of Oikawa’s legs shifted so that it was pressed between Tetsurou’s. _Oh come on_ , that wasn’t _fair_ –

“No, but I think _you_ might.” Oikawa leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the other boy’s neck, ignoring how Tetsurou jerked with the motion. The dark haired boy hissed and dug his fingers into Oikawa’s hips, hard enough to bruise. The other boy bit down gently in response.

“Right?” Oikawa licked a stripe up his neck.

It should have been disgusting. It still kind of was. Tetsurou breathed out heavily. “Right.”

Oikawa smirked against his neck. “That’s what I thought.”

The rest of the night was almost a blur after that. Tetsurou remembered things getting hot and heavy after only a few minutes of dancing with Oikawa. Even before the brown-haired boy had enthusiastically ripped off half the buttons on Tetsurou’s shirt. (It was ruined. He’d never been happier.)

Oikawa seemed to want as much contact with Tetsurou’s skin as possible, and had managed to twine both of his legs so intimately with Tetsurou’s that the dark haired boy’s mind was already left in the gutter.

It was between intense, messy kisses – Oikawa’s fingers threading through his hair – that Tetsurou found himself wondering how far exactly Oikawa intended to go with this. The brown haired boy was very good at distracting him from coherent thought, but Tetsurou wasn’t that drunk. Yet.

“Oikawa –“ he broke off as the boy in question started giving his neck a devoted level of attention. One of Oikawa’s hands pushed its way between the gaps between his buttons to caress at Tetsurou’s abdominal muscles as the other snaked its way up his back. The combined effect was very disorientating.

“Oikawa,” Tetsurou tried again, “What –“

“My place.” Oikawa spoke softly into the dark haired boy’s ear. Tetsurou shuddered.

* * *

The next morning, he’d woken up with one hell of a hangover and one very confused Tooru Oikawa spooning him.

* * *

He didn’t expect to see Oikawa again so quickly. Not for lack of trying, of course. Tetsurou had programmed his number into the other boy’s phone as soon as she opportunity had arisen. He’d eagerly awaited a call from the other boy. Y’know, so that he knew that Oikawa had a sober interest in him.

But Oikawa hadn’t called.

That had stung, just a little.

So when Oikawa had stumbled into Bokuto’s apartment after Iwaizumi, he’d nearly choked on his drink.

Tetsurou hadn't even planned on being there. It was a spur of the moment thing, to help him try to cope with Oikawa's apparent disinterest in him. That, and Bokuto had asked. And Tetsurou was never a shit friend.

He'd dragged himself out of bed, valiantly tried to fix his hair into something vaguely acceptable, and picked out his best clothes from the ones that weren't littered all over the floor of his room.

In the process he'd come across Oikawa's alien shirt, which had made his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots. Fortunately, Bokuto had chosen that moment to call and ask what was taking him so long, effectively snapping Tetsurou out of his melancholy before it could fully take hold.

He wasn't prepared to see him _here_.

Tetsurou turned away from Oikawa, surreptitiously wiping at his face with his free hand. " _Bokuto_ ," he hissed. "He's _here_."

Bokuto paused in pouring out drinks and shot him a puzzled look over his shoulder. "Well of course he is. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Tetsurou closed his eyes and prayed that the night wouldn't end _too_ badly. "I wanted him to  _call_ me, not meet him at another flat party!"

His friend rolled his eyes at him before shoving the nearest drink into Tetsurou's free hand. Bokuto forcefully turned the dark haired boy back around and pushed him in Oikawa's direction. "Go talk to him. Offer him a drink! Or not. Do whatever you want but just stop  _pining_."

Tetsurou squinted at Bokuto over his shoulder. "This was Kenma's idea, wasn't it." It wasn't even a question at this point.

Bokuto grinned. "Of course it was. But everything from here on out is _mine_." He patted Tetsurou's shoulder encouragingly, nearly causing him to spill both drinks. "Go get him! What's the worst that could happen?"

Several shots and too many hours later, apparently,  _everything_ could.

* * *

Tetsurou woke up first. So did his hangover.

He sat up slowly, hand firmly pressed into the side of his head to try and stop the world from spinning. When the room finally settled, Tetsurou realised it wasn't his own. That didn't particularly bother him though. Not when he knew who was lying next to him. From back of his head to the way those broad shoulders felt whilst his fingers were digging into them, Tetsurou knew him. Even if the memories were a little fuzzy around the edges.

_Oikawa._

Tetsurou barely bit back the groan that tried to claw its way out of his throat. He'd fucked up  _again_.

He could do friends with benefits, sure. But Tetsurou couldn't be sex friends with someone when he actually  _liked_ them. When feelings got involved, things got messy. And Tetsurou didn't want that kind of a relationship with Oikawa. He wanted  _more_.

The dark-haired boy was just beginning to follow the train of thought that was  _I wonder what it would be like, dating Oikawa?_ when he was distracted by a burning pain.

A little discomfort around the general area of his ass wasn't that unusual after the kind of night he'd just had, but the fact that it was coming from his  _cheek_ slightly concerned him.

Stumbling out of bed, Tetsurou made his way over to the only mirror in the room. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Oikawa was still sleeping away soundly. _Good._

Tetsurou took a moment to assess his reflection, admiring the colourful assortment of marks that now decorated his body. He took particular delight from the ones that framed his neck, and  _wow_ , when had he gotten _that_ one? He grinned despite himself. Hopefully, next time he would remember.

 _If_ there was a next time.

Ignoring the pounding in his head, the dark haired boy tried to focus again, and turned so that he could see his back in the mirror. It took him a few moments of blinking furiously in the dark room before his eyes finally made sense of what he was seeing. What he found made him nearly double over with barely-suppressed laughter.

Creeping back over to the bed - horrified chuckles still trying to escape him - he tentatively pulled back the covers, and had to bite back a smile when he found a matching mark on Oikawa's body too.

Oh, Oikawa was going to  _hate_ him. He really had nothing left to lose at this point.

Tetsurou flopped back down onto the bed, pulling the covers back over himself as Oikawa started to stir in his sleep.

Things would be different this time round.

(And not just because they'd gotten matching tattoos by accident.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Feel free to send my any ships or prompts that you would like me to try and write, and I'll give them a shot!

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://dragonshuntaswolves.tumblr.com/) || [Twitter](https://twitter.com/wolveshvnokings)


End file.
